


Tilney Manor

by poplocknsonnet



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, F/F, Minor Samantha "Sam" Arias/Alex Danvers, Non-powered AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplocknsonnet/pseuds/poplocknsonnet
Summary: When Kara crash-lands on Earth, culture shock threatens to overwhelm her. She finds solace and familiarity in Jane Austen books and grows up with Elizabeth Bennet and Elinor Dashwood for company. However, this literary security blanket could prove to be damaging when her imperfect understanding of Earth leads her to a dangerous assumption about her girlfriend’s mother.Or: the Northanger Abbey/Supergirl mashup that nobody asked for but I wrote anyway.





	Tilney Manor

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that the target audience for this fic is pretty small, but indulge me. Also, we’re assuming Northanger Abbey never made it to posthumous publication.

 

Any observer would be pardoned for seeing twelve-year old Kara Zor-El and assuming that she was born to be a hero. That she would attain greatness seemed inevitable; it was secured for her in the lofty positions of her parents, in her uncommonly fine features, in her deftness with the Kryptonian language. That she could not fly, or at least leap tall building in a single bound seemed no obstacle for one as otherwise blessed as she.

Twenty-four years later, thirteen-year old Kara Danvers held no such advantages. She still had no supernatural abilities, but further, her adoptive parents held no rank, her features had been dulled by years in the harsh conditions of the Phantom Zone, and English, like some perverse alchemist, had turned her silver tongue to lead. The English that Kara heard spoken on the street, on television, at school, had none of the poetry, none of the careful intention that had characterized communication on Krypton.

Moreover, where once there had been structure, Earth seemed such a wild place. Matches on Krypton were intentional; The Matrix was optimized to find life partners whose status, genetics, and education were complimentary. From the resulting pool of possibilities, courtships followed an inflexible set of social norms, with each generation of Kryptonians walking the same paths that their ancestors had, reinforcing expectations over the years like a stream carving a ravine into a canyon. When Alex casually mentioned over dinner that she’d been asked out by Taylor to a movie that week, panic threatened to overtake Kara. The chaos of a life without The Matrix seemed insurmountable.

Kara tried to explain what she had lost to the Danvers, but using English to describe Kryptonian was like trying to recreate the _Venus de Milo_ in macaroni and glue. “Sounds like a drag,” Alex said with the lack of tact characteristic of children her age, “Like something out of this book we just finished reading in class.” She searched through her bookbag before removing a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and tossing it at her adopted sister. “I can’t believe people used to talk like that.”

Kara waited until her adoptive sister was asleep before turning on her flashlight and cracking the book open. “ _It is a truth universally acknowledged_ ,” she read, fumbling through the unfamiliar alphabet.

She could feel Krypton on each page, just out of reach. The culture that Elizabeth Bennet navigated felt like home in a way that nothing else in Midvale, nothing else on Earth had managed to. The formality of courtship, the intention behind social interactions, the romance found within the expectations of society were familiar. And above all, the language sang in her veins, the poetry and lilt of Kryptonian all but tangible in the Regency prose.

“Did Ms. Austen write anything else?” she asked over breakfast the next morning, her excitement for more of what she’d read the only thing keeping her going after staying up the whole night reading.

“Quite a few, I think,” Jeremiah said, delighting in Kara’s uncharacteristic enthusiasm for something Earthly. “The librarian can probably find them for you, or I can go to the bookstore while you girls are at school.”

“Thank you,” Kara said, “I’ll visit the library today.”

“Ugh,” Alex complained, “Everyone’ll know my sister’s a bookworm.” But despite her grumbling, she went with Kara to the library, checking out Emma and Mansfield Park when Kara hit the cap on her card.

As she grew older, Kara grew more comfortable with Earth and its customs, growing into a gregarious, friendly girl. Years in the sun had restored her vibrancy and she turned heads as much for her pleasing features as she did for her insistence on a pastel cardigan no matter the weather. And even fully grown, she still clung to the books that provided some refuge from a planet that managed to be strange and home all at once.

At twenty-six, Kara Danvers was in general a punctual, conscientious person. Nowhere was this more evident than her recent appointment as the notorious Cat Grant’s personal assistant, but the new job had her flustered, and so she’d brought along an old favorite to lunch to try to calm her down. One more chapter had turned into another, and before she knew it, her lunch hour had all but passed, whiled away at the tiny table in the corner of the dining room of Noonan’s.

Still, no matter how late she was, Kara was in the middle of the chapter and so she began the trek back to CatCo Media with her nose still buried in her book. Predictably, she made it about two blocks before running headlong into someone, so caught up was she in Willoughby’s death. The last thing she saw before she went down in a mass of limbs and confusion was sleek black hair and a pantsuit.

“Oh, excuse me ma’am, I’m so sorry,” Kara said, flustered, “Walking while reading is an awful habit of mine; I find myself completely unable to tear myself away.” She knelt down to help gather her victim’s scattered papers.

“It’s fine,” the lady said, “I understand completely. What are you reading?”

“Sense and-” Kara’s voice caught in her throat as she turned to hand the lady a stack of what looked like incredibly important documents. She wasn’t as old as the pantsuit had led her to believe - she couldn’t be older than twenty-five - and she was breathtakingly beautiful, with a face that, but for the bright red of her lips and the pale green of her eyes, wouldn’t have looked out of place sculpted from marble atop an armless body.

“Sense and Sensibility! I remember that - I read it in college. My friends called me ‘a total Marianne’ for weeks.”

“I’m- I’m sure they meant it as a compliment,” Kara managed, her mouth suddenly terribly dry, her lungs bereft of the air needed to say any more.

“Oh, I’m not ma’am anymore?” the lady said with a smile. “I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“I- I beg your pardon, I-”

The lady laughed brightly. “I’m just teasing. I assume it was the pantsuit. Anyway, I was late to a meeting even before this little delay, so I’ve got to be off now.” And with that, she turned and dashed away, surprisingly quick on her towering heels.

When Kara made it back to the office, she was met with an order from Ms. Grant that left her feeling as bowled over as her dark-and-mysterious victim had been. “You’ll be out in the streets with George for the rest of the afternoon. He has a story to write and his normal partner has called in sick,” she said, almost as soon as Kara had stepped out of the elevator.

“Ms. Grant, with all due respect, I’m your assistant, not a reporter.”

“I can get by for a few hours without a perky millennial telling me when my next meeting is, Keira.”

“No, I mean-”

But Ms. Grant was not to be argued with, and before she knew it, Kara was being introduced to her new partner for the day: George Waxman, a CatCo reporter with neatly pressed pants who smelled strongly of Axe, a product that Kara had honestly not realized made it out of the aughts.

George had been assigned a piece on Lena Luthor, the new CEO of Luther Corp. All Kara knew about the interviewee came from a five minute conversation with Winn Schott, who was beyond jealous when he found out what she was doing that day. She learned that Lena Luthor was quite young - mid twenties - but that she already had her PhD and was running a Fortune 500 company. She learned that Ms. Luthor, like herself, had been adopted, although she suspected that Ms. Luthor’s was not the result of cataclysmic geo-planetary failure. She learned that Ms. Luthor already held several patents and was, in Winn’s opinion, at least as much of a genius as her brother. She found this incredibly impressive, but George wasn’t as convinced. “Can’t believe I have to spend my day interviewing someone whose main accomplishment is having a wealthy dad,” he said with a snort. “Can’t believe I have to babysit Cat Grant’s assistant all day.”

“It’s only a couple of hours,” Kara thought, “And I didn’t ask to be here with you either,” but she held her tongue throughout the brief cab ride to Luthor Corp. The walk wouldn’t have been long, but George was impatient, and CatCo was paying.

George tapped his foot throughout the pair’s ascent to the twentieth floor, the sound of his wing tips filling the claustrophobic box. The doors slid open with a ding, and soon enough, a lady who introduced herself as “Jess” was showing them to Ms. Luthor’s office.

Jess pushed the door open, showing the CatCo team into a rather cozy office. From description, Kara had expected something sleek, something modern, something sterile, but that wasn’t what she found at all. The back wall was all window and lined with plants. She recognized some of them from the Danvers’ home - Eliza had grown peperomia and a ficus tree as well - but there were others; lavender and mint lent their fragrance to the air, several orchids burst with color. Ms. Luthor’s desk was large, wider across than Kara’s arms could span, and made of the same richly brown wood as the bookcases that lined the walls of the office. The most striking thing in the room though, was its occupant. Kara’s face flushed as red as the potted amaryllis as she realized that not an hour ago, she’d run over one of Forbes’ 30 Under 30 while reading Sense and Sensibility.

Ms. Luthor smiled warmly as the pair walked in. If she recognized Kara, she made no indication of the fact, just gesturing at the two to sit in cushioned arm chairs that faced her desk. “I understand I’m to be interviewed for CatCo. How do we begin? I must confess,” she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I’ve never really done this before.”

“I’m George Waxman,” George said, “And this is Kara Danvers. This shouldn’t take very long, we just have a few questions to ask.” He handed Kara a tape recorder and launched into a set of questions that were so awful that it took Kara several minutes to realize that he was serious.

“What shade of lipstick is that?”

“Do you find dating to be difficult as the CEO of a major company?”

“How does it feel to lead a team of men?”

Ms. Luthor answered with grace, (“Crimson Prynne,” “I’ll let you know when I find someone to date, unless that answers your question,” and “The same as it does to lead a team of women, of course,”) but it was obvious that these were not the questions that she had anticipated.

Eventually, Kara had had enough, enough of George’s inane questions, enough of the tightness in Ms. Luthor’s eyes, enough of feeling invisible in the room and in her life. “You hold a number of patents, many of which were developed while still a student; where did that inspiration and drive come from?” she asked, interrupting George’s questions about Lena’s monthly shoe budget.

Ms. Luthor’s eyes lit up. “My inspiration has always been my family, my brother’s compassion for everyone around him, my late father’s work ethic, my mother’s desire for excellence. I’m adopted,” she admitted, “So it makes me happy when I can express those traits myself. It makes the family bond feel like more than just a name and a formality.”

That was all it took to push George out of the interview entirely. Questions and answers turned into a conversation so engrossing that Jess’ knock felt like it had come from miles and miles away. “Sorry, Ms. Luthor, but your four o’clock is on her way.”

“Thanks, Jess. Could I get a minute alone with Ms. Danvers, please? Jess will call you a car,” she told a still silent George, who nodded and followed Jess out.

When Ms. Luthor smiled, she did it with her whole face. “Thank you,” she said, and the sincerity of emotion hit Kara like a gust of wind. “If that had gone on much longer, it would have been an assault charge, and not a puff piece that landed me in your magazine. I don’t have much time before my next meeting, but I wanted to ask you to write the article - I think you’d do a wonderful job.”

“It’s not- I’m just Cat Grant’s assistant,” Kara said, “George is the reporter.”

Ms. Luthor frowned. “Don’t subject me to that. It’s my first interview as CEO and I want to make a good impression.” Kara could feel her resolve fading quickly under Ms. Luthor’s sad eyes, and then: “Consider it an apology for running me over on Main.”

“I didn’t think that you’d recognized me,” Kara admitted as she felt her face heat, “You left so quickly.”

“I did have to go; there was a board meeting that I needed to be present at. Still, it’s hard to forget a face like yours.” Kara’s face flamed, and Ms. Luthor laughed. “There you go, see? I’ve never seen a human turn quite so red.”

The irony was not lost on Kara.

“Anyway, I don’t mean to tease, I am asking a favor after all. Will you do it? Will you write the article?”

What could Kara do but nod? And when Ms. Luthor smiled again, her eyes crinkling, her lips bowing, her cheeks dimpling, she knew that she would agree to do anything if this was her reward.

Ms. Luthor took Kara’s hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. “Thank you,” she said again, as Jess walked in once more. “Ms. Luthor, your four o’clock is here, can I let her in?”

Kara walked back to CatCo to report what had happened both during and after the interview to Ms. Grant, although she left out the part where Ms. Luthor had recognized her after their run-in earlier in the morning.

Ms. Grant smiled, the strange half-smile that Kara had quickly learned meant that she was really pleased. “George tries hard, but he has a very specific idea of what it is that women want to read about and an inconsistent relationship with quality. Well done, Keira. You’ll do a great job with the article.”

Kara wasn’t quite sure if Ms. Grant meant that as a reassurance, as a sign of faith, or as a threat, but buoyed by Ms. Luthor’s smile, she all but floated home.

After much agonizing, self-doubt, and “research” which mostly devolved into trawling as far back in to Ms. Luthor’s Instagram as she could, Kara’s article was published on a Friday.

On Monday, she walked into work expecting, at best, an “Adequate job, Keira” from Cat Grant. She definitely did not expect to see her desk covered in an elaborate display of pink and red roses. Nestled within the petals and leaves was a creamy envelope, sealed with red wax with an L emblazoned in it. Aware that every eye in the office (thankfully, she was early enough that these were few) was upon her, she broke the wax and opened the envelope with shaking hands.

“ _Ms. Danvers,_ ” the letter within read, written in dark green ink in delicate, loopy cursive, “ _I wanted to thank you for the effort and good will that went into your recent article in CatCo. If you’re free tonight, I would consider it a great kindness if you’d accompany me to dinner. If you can make it, please let me know at XXX-XXXX._ ” It was signed, “ _Yours, Lena Luthor_.”

Kara’s heart pounded a sharp staccato as she read, unable to fully believe that the letter, the flowers, the words, were real. Years of experience on Earth had led her to believe that this kind of thing had been relegated to stories of the past, but here, right in front of her-

“Well, what does it say, Keira?” Ms. Grant’s voice broke through Kara’s reverie. “What was so important that Lena Luthor herself called me on a Sunday morning asking what desk my assistant worked at?”

“I- she wants to thank me for the article, Ms. Grant. She wants to know if I’m free tonight.”

Ms. Grant scoffed. “Wants to know- As if she didn’t ask me, as a personal favor, to make sure you could take a half day today.” Kara stared - the Queen of Media wasn’t known for her soft spot, certainly wasn’t known for playing matchmaker for her assistants. “Well? You had better get back to work if you’re going to be leaving early today, Keira. Chop chop.” Ms. Grant looked stern, but Kara’s heart soared.

Later that night, Kara waited nervously at the restaurant that Ms. Luthor had selected. She’d foregone Ms. Luthor’s offer of a car; as much as she appreciated the gesture, it was only a few blocks away from Kara’s apartment.

She’d been waiting a few minutes that seemed nearly interminable when Ms. Luthor arrived in her red Model X. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, “I was in the lab and I lost track of time.”

Kara shook her head. “It’s no problem at all, Ms. Luthor. It wasn’t long and it’s a nice day out besides.”

“Well, thanks for being so understanding. Shall we go inside and order? I’m famished.”

Kara let herself be led in, skin tingling where Ms. Luthor took her arm in in her hand. The sleeveless top had been a good idea, no matter how crisp the night air was.

Ms. Luthor had chosen an upscale Korean place. Kara was initially concerned at the unfamiliarity of the menu, but brightened when the waiter told her that the “mandu” were very similar to the potstickers that were a mainstay of her Chinese take-out order. Ms. Luthor picked a mixed rice dish, ordering in, as far as Kara could tell, flawless Korean.

“So,” Ms. Luthor said, “I wanted to thank you for the very kind words you write about me, but also for writing about me, and not just using the article as an excuse to write about my family.”

Kara’s brow furrowed. “Of course not, Ms. Luthor. Your accomplishments are your own and no less impressive for your family’s success. You have my gratitude as well, the flowers and the letter were much more than I expected or deserved for just doing my job.”

“It’s not my usual style, honestly, but something about the way you talk made me think you’d appreciate the gesture.”

Kara nodded, a shy grin spreading across her face. “I truly did. I’ve been told that the way I speak is a little queer. It’s the result of reading more than interacting with other children while growing up, I suppose.”

“And reading while crossing the street.”

“I was in the middle of a chapter,” Kara tried to explain, feeling her face reddening, “You can’t set a book down in the middle of a chapter.”

“Of course not. Sense and Sensibility, was it?”

Kara smiled. “Jane Austen is my very favorite.”

“I was always partial to Wuthering Heights myself.”

Their food soon arrived and the pair tucked in to their food. Kara found the normal speed with which she ate tempered by a desire to spend as much time with Ms. Luthor as possible. Still, hunger won out in the end, and food ran out before the conversation. Despite Kara’s protests, Ms. Luthor paid the check that the waiter brought out with a plate of orange slices. As they peeled the sweet fruit from its peel, Ms. Luthor leveled a careful look at Kara.

“Now tell me the truth. You didn’t realize that I’d asked you here as a date at all, did you?”

Kara looked down, her grin wide. “I admit that I had allowed myself to hope, Ms. Luthor,” she said shyly, “But I thought it best to protect myself from an overeager imagination.”

Ms. Luthor laughed, and the sound rang across Kara’s spine. “Well, I did. And it won’t be the last time, if that’s okay with you. Under one condition, of course.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll have to call me Lena,” Ms. Luthor said, “I insist. ‘Ms. Luthor’ makes me feel like I’m at work.”

“I can do that,” Kara said, “Lena.”

It was far from the last time that the two saw each other. Several months of dinner dates and trips to National City’s various museums and parks followed, until:

“There’s a charity fundraiser this weekend that Luthor Corp is running,” Lena said, “Raising money for a holiday party for the homeless. Would you come with me? I can promise that the catering will be good, at least.”

“I’d be very pleased to accompany you,” Kara said with a smile.

“Wear something you can dance in,” Lena said, “And maybe some close-toed shoes that can protect you from my two left feet.”

Saturday evening saw Kara led by the hand into the lobby of Luthor Corp by its CEO. The clean, sleek office space had been adorned with a dizzying array of Christmas lights, transforming the walls into softly twinkling galaxies.

“It’s lovely,” Kara breathed, constellations shining in her eyes.

“I suppose it is,” Lena said with a smile.

Kara marveled over the décor until the sight of the buffet table temporarily drove it from her mind. She and Lena meandered through the crowd, mingling as Lena’s position required, but never straying too far from the supply of crab puffs and baked brie.

Kara met so many people that night, introduced to each by Lena as “Kara, my date,” that try as she might, she had to refer to each within her head by a descriptive feature, and not by their name.

“Just got back from London,” grey-suit said, “Weather was horrid.”

Buzz-cut rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

Kara nodded. “There is nothing quite so wonderful as sunshine on the English countryside though,” she said earnestly.

Buzz-cut laughed. “If the sun graces us with its presence next time I’m in the area, I’ll let you know about that” he said.

“I didn’t know you’d been to England,” Lena remarked when they’d moved on, “When did you go?”

“I haven’t,” Kara said, “But I’ve read so much about it, it seems just a formality.”

Lena chuckled. “Well, if the Dublin office needs me, I’ll see if we can make a quick stop. Care to dance?” She held out a hand expectantly. “I promise to do my best to spare your toes.”

Lena, it turned out, had wildly undersold her ability to dance. “Lena,” Kara said, scandalized, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I suppose I never was good at being led,” Lena said with a smile, “I much prefer it this way.” She pulled Kara a little tighter, their torsos so close that Kara wasn’t quite sure if it was her heart that was thundering, or if she was feeling Lena’s against her chest.

“Thank you for this,” Kara murmured, “Tonight has been something out of a dream.”

Lena laughed, “Oh please. You’re the one who’s saved me from having to make small talk with every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

“My birth parents used to attend state functions,” Kara said, the memories she’d been reliving all night suddenly spilling out, “And they would tell me that one day, when I was older, I would go with them. My mother told me about them, about the music and the dancing, beneath the light of the stars. After- after the accident, I believed that it was not an experience that I was meant to have.”

“If it’s within my power to give it to you,” Lena said quietly, “Then I will.”

There were no pictures circulated of the kiss that followed, but Kara woke up the next morning to a news feed filled with other, more innocent, pictures that had been taken of her and Lena accompanying headlines like, “Lena Luthor’s Reporter Gal Pal!” or, “Luthor Slums it With CatCo Gal Pal.” CatCo, mercifully, had declined to run the story (“There is no headline that doesn’t demean at least one of you,” Ms. Grant sniffed when Kara asked her about it later, “And besides, it’s a conflict of interest.”)

It was early, but Lena wasn’t one to sleep in, even on a Sunday. Kara stopped briefly on the way to Luthor Corp to buy one copy of each of several newspapers, along with coffee for the both of them. Lena, as expected, was too deep into her stack of paperwork to have seen the morning news.

“Gal pals?” Lena asked, shaking her copy of The Post angrily. “Slumming it?”

“People will think what they think,” Kara said.

“I didn’t spend the night introducing you as my date to have Jake Willow write about how we `look like great friends,’ Kara,” Lena replied, “The heteronormativity is positively archaic.” She whipped out a stack of letterhead and uncapped a pen. “Angry letters are really best when handwritten, don’t you think?’

The following day’s news coverage was very polite and very clear to identify Kara as Lena’s girlfriend, but it came with an unforeseen consequence. Eliza and Jeremiah, who read The National City Herald to keep up with the city that their younger daughter lived in got more than they had expected that morning. “Kara Danvers!” Eliza hissed into the phone, “I expect to see you in the by-lines, maybe, not the headlines!”

“I told you that I was seeing someone,” Kara said, confused, “It’s been months.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that she was someone whose relationship status is newsworthy! We have to meet her, Kara. Invite her for dinner this weekend, if she’s not too busy.”

“Yes, Eliza,” Kara said meekly.

“Never mind your mother,” Jeremiah told his daughter, “She’s just flustered because the house isn’t really in order.” He thought for a second, before adding, “Nice job, by the way. She’s quite pretty. Looking forward to seeing you both. I’ll call Alex and tell her to come home as well, might as well get it all over with at once.”

Lena couldn’t make that weekend and Alex couldn’t make the next, and between the various competing schedules, it was another month and a half before Eliza was finally able to get the three women to Midvale.

The night arrived; it was pushing six and Lena had still not arrived.

“We have this thing called texting, check it out,” Alex said, pulling out her phone to show her sister a message from Sam which was more emoji than letter. “This is how the youth of today communicate. You could send one to Lena, see when she’s going to get here.”

“We text,” Kara said defensively, “Lena’s driving.”

“Oh, she doesn’t have a chauffeur?”

“That’s not fair. Are you going to be weird about this when she gets here?"

“We’ll see, sis,” Alex said with a sigh, “She’s just from a totally different world, you know? It’s not something I ever would have seen coming.”

“Alex, I’m from a totally different world.”

“You know what I mean, Kar. She’s all high-society and we’re-” She gestured around the kitchen of the house that the two girls had grown up in. “You know. Us. The Danvers.”

“Well, what about Sam? Isn’t she employed as the CFO of Palmer Technologies?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s different. She wasn’t born into it. It feels different.”

Just then, Lena’s car rolled into the driveway, so Kara just said, “Be nice. Please?” and went to get the door.

Kara’s fears turned out to be unwarranted as the dinner proceeded flawlessly. Between the poise and charisma refined through years of high society and her sly humor, Lena was quick to win over the rest of the Danvers family. And if her pressed slacks and designer heels looked out of place in the Danvers’ kitchen, the way she looked at Kara was enough to convince anyone that she belonged right where she was.

While Lena helped Jeremiah with the dishes, Alex and Kara retreated to the porch.

“I was wrong,” Alex admitted.

“About what?”

“I think she’s good for you. Much better than the people you’ve brought home in the past.”

Kara smiled. “Yes, she is.”

“Have you met her family yet?”

“We’re going to Smallville next weekend.”

“Ah,” Alex said, nodding sagely, “It’s an `I’ll-show-you-mine, you-show-me-yours’ kind of deal, is it?”

“Alex!” Kara said, reddening, “That’s not-”

Alex cut her off. “I hope you have a great time. The Luthors must be great to have turned out someone like Lena.”

In order to spend the weekend with Lena’s family, Kara had taken Monday off, a rare use of her vacation time. “Women should not have to choose between their careers and their personal lives,” Ms. Grant had said, “This is the twenty-first century. Take Friday off as well; I can’t risk my assistant to the perils of night-time driving. I’m sure your girlfriend can take an extra day as well - what’s the use of being the boss if she can’t have a personal day?”

And so, Friday morning found Kara and Lena and their bags packed into Kara’s Volkswagen Beetle as they began the drive towards Tilney Manor where Lena had grown up. The Manor, as Lena called it, was located some fifty miles from Smallville, which Lena assured Kara was not at all as the rumors described it.

Despite having spent, at this point, most of her life on Earth, the variety of landscapes that even this one country could claim amazed Kara. Krypton, for all of its beauty, had long since been climate controlled to a single, homogenous biome most conducive for a comfortable life. As Lena drove, Kara stared out the window, transfixed by each new town, each new landscape that they passed through.

The pair stopped in Bishop, which lay about halfway between their origin and their destination for gas and a quick meal. Bishop, which lay in the valley between the region’s two great mountain ranges, gave the impression of existing in the bottom of a great bowl, that the world wasn’t a sphere, but a dish. Their trip would eventually take them East, through the mountain pass, but for now, they were able to take in the view over hot dogs and fries.

“Have you ever seen something so full of splendor?” Kara asked breathlessly, turning to Lena.

“Yes,” Lena murmured, but she was looking not at the mountains, or at the vast expanse of sky, but right back at Kara.

Despite having set out quite early in the morning, the sun had nearly set by the time the pair finally pulled through the gates of Tilney Manor. Kara almost wished she hadn’t effused so over the view at Bishop, so immediately taken was she by the sight of The Manor. It seemed to her just the kind of place that would exist in her favorite novels, the kind of house that Mr. Darcy or Wentworth might live at. The Manor enclosed three sides of a large court, with neat rows of grand, rectangular windows set into the red brick. The surrounding woods seemed designed to facilitate the kinds of strolls through the countryside that were so foreign to her in Central City and yet so familiar to her in the pages that she’d pored over. So fascinated was she by the sight that it wasn’t until the Beetle had rolled to a gentle stop that she realized that there was someone standing in the great doorway to the manor.

“You’ve finally arrived!” Lillian Luthor (for it was she who had greeted them at the door) cried.

Lena’s face, on seeing her mother, brightened considerably. She had been perfectly content during the drive over, but on arriving at her childhood home and seeing her mother, her good humor multiplied. “Mama,” she said, closing the distance between them to embrace the older woman.

Kara stood by the car, unwilling to interrupt the reunion before her. Before long, though, Lena remembered that she had brought company. “Mama, this is Kara,” she said, returning to Kara to take her by the hand and gently tug her forward, “Kara, this is my mother, Lillian Luthor.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Kara said, holding out a hand, “You have a truly lovely home.”

The elder Luthor smiled as she shook Kara’s hand. “The pleasure is mine; I’m so very excited to meet the girl that Lena has finally brought home. Lena, why don’t you go see if Lex needs any help in the workshop while I help get Kara settled in?” she offered, “I have to at least introduce her to the guest room before you sneak her into your own.”

“M- ma’am,” Kara spluttered, “I assure you, I would never do anything of the sort, my intentions are-”

Lillian laughed, and blood relation or not, Kara could hear Lena’s laugh in her mother’s. “It’s not your intentions that I’m concerned with, Kara dear. I know my daughter.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “And none of this “ma’am” business. Please, call me Lillian.”

Lena agreed to her mother’s plan, dropping her bag off in the foyer before heading off in search of her brother. Lillian, meanwhile, led Kara upstairs to the guest room, taking care to point Lena’s room out, just down and across the hall.

Eventually, they had Kara’s things settled in and retreated to the sitting room where Lillian prepared a kettle of tea.

“So, tell me about your family, dear,” Lillian said, “Where are your parents from?”

“My adopted parents live in Midvale.”

“Oh, you’re adopted as well? Lena never mentioned.”

“Yes, I feel quite blessed to have been taken in by the Danvers.”

“How old were you when you were adopted, if I can ask? Lena came to us quite young, only four years old, but already such a troublemaker!”

Kara smiled at the image; she hoped that Lillian was the kind of mother who took many baby pictures. “I was thirteen when the Danvers took me in.”

“So old - what happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“My parents were lost in an accident,” Kara said quietly - it still hurt after all these years. “I survived, but there were no relatives to take me in.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lillian said, before gently changing the subject. “Your speech is so delicate, dear. Where were you schooled? Sweden? England? Our Lena attended boarding school in France for several years as you may know.”

“Oh, no, ma’am, I’m all American, I’m afraid.”

Lillian chuckled. “Nothing wrong with that. One of the Phillips, then? Or Deerfield, perhaps?”

Kara shook her head. “When I came to Ea- Midvale, I was proud to attend Midvale High.”

“I see,” Lillian said, pursing her lips. “The Danvers wanted you to see how normal people lived?” There was a dangerous note to her words that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Oh, nothing like that,” Kara said carefully, “The Danvers were normal people. When I arrived, Jeremiah was finishing his PhD in Xenobiology, but with two children, there wasn’t time to stay in school, so he sold insurance.”

“A failed PhD in Xen- How… Interesting,” Lillian said.

Kara was about to defend Jeremiah, about to speak about his kindness, his patience, his willingness to sacrifice for his girls, when Lex and Lena returned, neatly interrupting the suddenly perilous conversation.

“Kara!” Lena said, delightedly, “This is my brother, Lex. Lex, this is my- well, my Kara.” The term of endearment would, in any other situation, have filled Kara with the warmest affection, but so distracted was she by Lillian’s digging that she barely registered Lena’s words. Headlines flashed before her eyes, “ _Lena Luthor Slums It With Kara_ ,” they taunted.

“Great to meet you, Lena won’t shut up about you,” Lex said, stretching out a hand that Kara shook. “ _She’s just from a totally different world, you know?_ ” Alex said, her tone more biting, sharper than Kara remembered.

“If you two could just give us a moment,” Lillian said, “I need to speak to Lex before dinner.”

“Of course,” Kara said numbly before heading to the stairs with Lena – was this what shock felt like? Once they were safely in Lena’s room, Kara could hold back no longer. “Lena, I need to confide in you something of the utmost importance,” she said in a rush.

“Of course, Kara, anything. You know that I’m always willing to listen.”

“Lena, I beg your pardon for what I am about to tell you, for the pain that I fear my admission may bring you. I spoke to your mother and the difference between her demeanor before and after I revealed the financial situation of the Danvers was as day and night. It is true that I have no wealth, no great education, no titles. Lena, did your mother know all of this?”

Lena’s face blanched. “If I’m understanding correctly, you have assumed something terrible about my family. Kara, think about what you’re saying – this is America, this is 2018. We don’t live in one of your Jane Austen novels, Kara, and this is not a reason that we can’t be together. I told my mother all about you from the very start.”

The absurdity of the notion struck Kara all at once. Lillian had asked a couple of pointed questions and she’d spun a story of prejudice, accused Lena of lying to her mother, of hiding Kara from her.

“I- I think that I should return to National City,” Kara said, stricken, “I seem to have made such a fool of myself here and I don’t know if I can meet your mother’s eye.”

“I’ll tell my mother and Lex that your sister is in the hospital,” Lena said, nearly managing to disguise the tremor in her voice.

Kara wept with embarrassment and with shame, she wept at leaving behind the majesty of Tilney Manor, but mostly, she wept for leaving Lena and for what she knew to be the dissolution of all they’d once shared. Kara wept the whole way back to National City, not arriving until the wee hours of the morning.

She was grateful that Ms. Grant asked no questions about her appearance on Monday.

The rest of the week passed in a haze of work, takeout, and no Lena.

Until:

It was a Saturday and Kara had fully intended to spend its entirety in the lethargy and misery of her apartment, just as she had each night since leaving Tilney Manor. These carefully laid plans, however, were interrupted by the ringing of her work phone.

“Kara,” Ms. Grant said, and the correct pronunciation of her name, more than anything else, caught her ear, “Kara, Lillian Luthor has just been arrested for affiliation with anti-alien terrorist groups. Lena is going to be asked to testify.”

“I have to go to her,” Kara said, stunned.

“Yes, I imagine so,” Ms. Grant said, “Good luck.”

Kara threw on the cleanest clothing she could muster and headed to the door, fully intending to sprint the entire way to Lena’s apartment. She threw open her door only to find Lena there, her hand raised to knock and her usually impeccable mascara running down her porcelain cheeks.

“I- I have no one else to go to,” Lena admitted, “Please don’t ask me to leave.”

“Oh, Lena,” Kara said, surging forward and enveloping the other woman in as tight a hug as she could manage, “I would never.”

Earth had its chaos, Kara reflected, as her body shook with the other woman’s sobs, but it also had Lena Luthor. And although she would never say so, the Luthor trials over the next few months revealed enough to Kara that she hardly felt that she had misjudged Lillian that night in Tilney Manor.


End file.
